The Limits Of Love When It Loses Money

No matter how prestigious, literary magazines are not popular enough to turn a profit. Consider how many are published by creative writing programs at publicly-funded universities, and you can see why many of the journals continue to exist. You, the taxpayer, are covering the losses.

In the private world, Granta is one of the most prestigious, published quarterly and filled with the words of both established writers and fresh scribblers. It does not make a profit. It continues to exist because an heiress pumps money into it. Out of love.

Sigrid Rausing is a philanthropist sitting on the profits reaped by Tetra Pak. Having all that money, she is able to enjoy the rather expensive hobby that is publishing.

The people she hired to run Granta's literary journal and book publishing divisions had free rein to choose what they thought was the best in literature, without having to worry if there was a large enough audience to generate blockbuster profits. What editor wouldn't love that position?

Inherited capital has to be invested to keep it growing, but the markets took a dive and investors took stock. Having one's holdings plummet in value over a short period of time will make an heiress pause, and often the psychological impact is greater than the actual financial hit. Chances are good that Ms. Rausing realized that she could not keep funneling money into Granta like it was water in unlimited supply, because there were limits.

Perhaps she had a change of heart because she was not delighted with the selection of Britain's best young novelists, as chosen by the Granta staff. Book reviewers weren't entirely thrilled by it, and if the reviews are not stellar, it makes her staff appear out of touch, which does not bode well for those who would wonder if Granta books are as lame as the magazine's recommendations. Without book buyers, it is Ms. Rausing who loses money.

That she let Granta operate at a loss for the sake of producing fine literature is a testament to her love of words, but there are limits to how much anyone will spend on love. Or an expensive hobby.

The new policy of operating the book division at a profit has resulted in an exodus of talent, with many fearing their love of literature will have to be restricted. People like Philip Gwyn Jones found unemployment preferable to slogging under the same blockbuster mentality that infects the major publishers.

Editors and art directors are on their way out the door, leaving Granta magazine to Ms. Rausing's control. Writers are concerned, of course, that there will be no influx of similar talent to keep the magazine and book divisions operating at the same high level, and they see the end of one of the few remaining operations that considers the quality of the writing over the writing's ability to become the next best seller.

Love is an emotion and publishing is a business. When some of the love is unrequited, and the publishers loses money, you cannot expect a relationship to continue. Ms. Rausing is cutting costs by reducing staff and shuttering the New York office because there is a limit to how much she is willing to invest in a relationship that is largely one-sided.

Whether Granta will survive is unknown. There may be another editor out there who will take on the magazine and produce the same quality product at a lower cost. There may be someone in publishing right now who would jump at the chance to run Granta's book division, even if it means working harder for less money.

It's grand that Ms. Rausing has lots of love for literature. Now she has to find people to work for her publishing enterprise that have as much love. Which is to say, will work on the cheap.